When Charlie started school, I just knew he'd provide me with plenty of material to blog about. Which is good, because we do have our dry spells when he's not doing anything particularly diabetish.

A good journalist goes out and gets the story even when there seemingly isn't one.

"Come on, Charlie, I've got a story to write! Do a little something diabetic for daddy for heaven's sake! Anything!"

"OK, here's the scene: You're blood sugar is pretty high. You're super mad at the world and you don't know why. Maybe you'd like to destroy something of emotional and monetary value? Mommy's English bone china tea cups perhaps? What? Did you hear that? I think the green cup just said you wear pink underpants." (READ MORE)

Michelle Kowalski

There really just is no way to describe the way an extreme low feels. It was surreal, like I was outside of myself; like I was watching myself through a camera mounted on my head--that carnival ride-like feeling you get when you watch a video of someone, say, walking through the woods from their point of view; like part of me was asleep while the conscious part of me fought like mad to make things right.

I saw the 29 and while I almost immediately pulled the strip out of the meter, for just a second I thought the number was the code for the strips. I, obviously, wasn't thinking clearly.

"29," I said to The Mr. (READ MORE)

Late Friday night, The Mr. came to bed and snuggled up close to me.

"You scared me this afternoon," he said quietly into my ear.

I had been asleep for some time, but his footsteps woke me. Or perhaps I was sleeping lightly.

"I know," I said. "I was scared, too."

We shared one of those moments Friday afternoon that makes you see so many things in a different way, makes you appreciate even more the people who are there for you.

That morning, I had been feeling a little down about some things. After dropping off No. 2 at the sitter after preschool, I called The Mr. just to chat, but he could hear it in my voice and asked me to come by his office.

"You seem really down," he said hugging me.

"I am," I said. (READ MORE)

Pancreas: Ahem, hey Michelle I think you need to check your sugar.

Me: Nah, I'm OK.

Pancreas: No, really, I know that I don't really work and all that, but, uh, you should take a second and check.

Me: Seriously dude, I'm fine.

Pancreas: Look, you were 110 about an hour ago and about 90 minutes before that you were 122. So, uh, considering that you're shaking and all, I think it would be wise for you to stop and check your sugar.

Me: Look, yourself PUNK! I'm busy and I don't want to.

Pancreas: Michelle, serious--

Me: Would you shut up already! I'm focused on this right now. I want to do this at this moment. I want to be finished doing what I'm doing so I can move on to something else. I ordered pizza tonight so I didn't have to cook so I could have enough time to do what I'm doing right. at. this. moment.

Pancreas: Bu-- (READ MORE)

jyyne_2000

I can remember the time when I had my worst low blood sugar. As diabetics, we all have a "hypoglycemia story". Some instances stand out more than others. Some of us can't recall our bad moments because we were probably passed out from being so low. I can actually say, proudly I might add, that I have never once lost consciousness in all my 13 years of living with this "AWESOME" (sarcasm) disease. I have never actually had to use the infamous glucagon kit. However, that's not to say that I haven't had some darn scary times. (READ MORE)